Visions of the Past
Ever since retrieving the first Precursor Weapon from the precursor temple north of Eboncaer, members of the party have had extremely vivid dreams hinting at an ancient series of events that led to a climactic point in history. Where these visions come from and what secrets they could reveal remains to be seen. Transcript I (Namfoodle) You stand on top of an enormous glacier. The world around you is almost completely grey and white, covered in deep snow and ice, scattered with massive boulders and cascades of smaller rocks. Jagged mountains rise on either side of the winding, uneven plateau, alien peaks you have never seen before, but at the same time, recognise. The sheer scale of the glacier's width is breath-taking; terrifying, shadowed only by its seemingly endless length. A frigid wind whips past your face, howling and moaning through the cracks and crevasses hidden far below, making the glacier shudder. You do not feel the cold. The massive blocks of ice groan and crack as they shift beneath your feet, continuing their slow, unstoppable march towards the valleys far below. Above you, you can see the suns you are familiar with, but they are far brighter and larger in the sky than you remember. There is no sign of life, only blissful solitude in an undiscovered world. The air is hazy with cloud vapour that crystallises into a fine snowy mist and falls softly to the ground. Your purpose is clear to you. What you seek lies at the very source of the glacier, far ahead of you where the ice and the mountain become one. It is a long way, but you have travelled great distances before, and this is merely another footprint in the great tapestry you have witnessed. You continue your journey, heading further up the glacial river, and the fresh snow quickly covers any trace of your passing. II (Namfoodle) The climb has been long, but you are nearly at your destination, and time is of little consequence to you. The glacier has grown slender and dangerous here, the underlying rock shifting abruptly and with more frequency, sending avalanches of snow tumbling down onto the ice and crashing into dangerously hidden ravines. The air is thin and sparse, but you do not need it. You left the clouds behind a long time ago, and there are only small fragile wisps of white to break up the sunlight. There, up ahead, you can see it. A single solitary tree, leafless and barren, not large, but large enough for its jagged shape to be noticeable. Its branches are startlingly white, sticking out even amidst the fields of snow that surround it. It grows on top of a half-buried spherical boulder, made of rock that gleams silver and shimmers like glass. This is what you have come for. You blink, and now you are beside the tree. It is pristine, with almost translucent white bark that has countless miniature veins of pale gold and seems to glow with an inner light. Its roots sprout from inside the rock on which it stands, as if its seed was planted deep within and grew through the cracks. The tree itself is young, but at its very heart lies something far older. You can sense it. Older than you, older even than this world. How far had it come, you wonder, how much had it seen? Curious, you reach out to touch it, feel the light beneath your skin, and at last you understand. III (Namfoodle) The tree tells you many things. It speaks of time immemorial spent soaring through silent darkness, of stars in their millions lighting up the black canvas, burning dim or bright, crashing together, dying and being born, until two intertwined drew it to them. It speaks of a trail of fire searing through thick clouds, burning away the excess and leaving only the core. It speaks of a world freshly made, of lava and molten rock turning into pillars of frost and ice. It speaks of life, of spreading roots and growing to greet the suns, even when all around the world remained desolate. And at last, it speaks of something beyond: a creeping shadow that comes to extinguish the light. You witness all this, and know you have truly found what you seek, what your siblings sent you to find. Before returning to the conclave, you hesitate. Temptation overcomes you, and you reach once more to the tree and brush your fingers on its pale bark. It has told you many secrets, but perhaps there are more hidden in its depths and, you must confess, you are still curious. You found it after all, and you were only sent for the core. Yes, they wouldn't care about the tree. With a delicate twirl of your finger, the tree shimmers and turns into liquid, drawing out of the rock on which it grows and soaring into the air in an intertwining stream. Gently, you guide it with your hand and it forms into a condensed sphere of pure white wood, which fits snugly into your palm. You hold it to your chest, and feel its light pulse against your own. IV (Namfoodle) The scenery has shifted now. The snow is still dominant, but the air is almost above freezing, and patches of green are speckled across the landscape. But beyond that, you see everything with a new clarity, a new understanding of purpose. "I have found it, brother." You are standing on a low hill, covered in a dusting of fresh snow from this morning. The landscape here in the valley is far different than the glacier. Gone are the mountains and the great river of ice. Down here there is only a land that could be beautiful, but was locked in the grasp of a seemingly endless winter. Silver pine trees cover much of the land, their branches held down by piles of snow, and the suns' light is weak and watery. The man in front of you turns to look at you. He is young and slender, with hair black as coal and eyes that gleam with intelligence. Those eyes take in what you have brought with you before you have any chance to explain, and light up immediately as a thousand possibilities flood through his brain. He was always the inventor. "The core." "Yes." "After all this time, I did not think we ever would..." "It is incredible, brother. I can sense it. With this we will have the power to do what we've always dreamed." The words you speak are foreign to you, but you speak them perfectly, and understand them even if you do not recognise the language. The man reaches out to touch the core, almost in a trance, and for a second you feel the urge to pull it away, keep it for yourself, but you do not. He shudders as he places his palm flat on the rough silver surface. "I can feel so much...untapped energy...so much potential." You can tell he did not see what you did. Perhaps the core did not hold the same secrets as the tree. Perhaps its secrets were still in flux. Perhaps. You do not mention the tree. V (Namfoodle) The others arrive without announcement. First the eldest: a man tall and broad, with hair black like the rest. Then, the second: a woman pale and beautiful, with a smile always on her face. You are the third, and the man with the clever eyes is the youngest. Without speaking, you share with them what you have found, melding the thoughts you wish to disclose with theirs in a heartbeat, and now they understand the magnitude of your findings just as much as you do. You feel a twinge of guilt for not sharing everything with them, but it is best they do not find what you have hidden. Not yet. Unanimously, you hold out your hands to the silver rock, standing alone in the midst of you. The metal liquefies and pools into an elegant pedestal with four arms that hold atop them the heart of this treasure you have discovered. A pale stone, rough and amorphous, transparent like glass, with delicate veins of dark crimson ore running across its surface. "The core of creation," says the eldest directly into your thoughts. "What we had hoped is true, brother," you say in return. He nods. "Then our duty is clear. This world yearns for life, and we are chosen to guide it, give it meaning." "This is our purpose," you all agree. Together, you reach for the core and its power floods into you. It is time to begin your work. VI (Castiel) You stand on the lip of a vast cauldron of seething lava and molten rock, the beating heart of an active volcano. Mere meters below you lies a path to the very core of the world, and it is here you have chosen to forge your tool. The metal that once protected the core will now serve to aid in your mission. You are the eldest. You came to this world first, and saw it with your own eyes at its youngest, and now you seek the means to protect it, guard it in its growth. At your whim, the sphere of metal you carry with you floats into the air in front of you. With skilled precision, you mentally guide it into the correct shape. You see it in your mind: the elegant hilt, razor sharp blade, delicate gold etching. When you are content, you plunge it into the lava below, and when it emerges it is more beautiful than you could have imagined. The swirling patterns of the flames that seared it now imbue the blade, and it glistens and shimmers like a silver fire, light trapped within metal. More than just a tool, more than just a weapon, a symbol of your guarding presence for centuries to come, a bastion to guard the light of life. You grasp the hilt and turn away. There is much to be done. This is your purpose. VII (Custos) At the top of the lonely peak by the sea, a storm rages around you. Below you, waves crash thirty feet high against the rocks, sending faint tremors up the cliff to your very feet. Bursts of lightning light up the skies, striking down at the water. In front of you, you raise the metal sphere that is your own gift from the core, to do with as you please. You have thought long and hard about what you represent, and what could represent you, and now the sphere becomes fluid and shapes itself into a beautifully crafted hammer, the mark of a builder, a shaper of things to come. At the very moment of its completion, a streak of lightning screams down from the broiling clouds above and hits the gift, burning the very air all around you and lighting up the dark sky with radiant light. Almost hesitant, you take hold of the hammer, and as your fist wraps around the handle, you can still feel the electricity coursing through it and into your veins. Above you the skies drum with the sound of thunder, but you know that a storm can never last forever, and when it clears life could flourish once more. With the hammer by your side, you could be its architect, its guiding light. This is your purpose. VIII (Namfoodle) You sit cross-legged in a pristine clearing deep within the pine forests. In a perfect circle around you, the snow has melted into the grass, and in front of you, held up by mere air and your will, is the wooden sphere you brought from the mountain. The others have begun their work, you can tell. You don’t know how you know this, but many things have changed since the tree spoke to you. The eldest has travelled far to the east, across oceans and distant hills, to guard the chaos of life as it begins to bloom. He carries with him a weapon of great power, fashioned from star metal and the blood of the earth. The youngest roams your own homeland instead, shaping the very bones of the world and turning the ice-clad continent into a flourishing land full of potential. His tool is simpler, that of a builder, made of the self-same metal but infused with a shard of savage light. The second has remained behind to study the core, unravel its mysteries, and protect it from future dangers. She has no need for tools, for her goal is merely to learn, and later to teach. All this and more you know. You can see it. Their purpose is complex, but yours runs deeper yet. Your vision flickers between what you see before you, and another existence: an endless sea of silver grass, and a single white tree growing in the very centre of the flat field. You know what it asks of you. It has shown you the path, but first it must be given shape. With a single wave of your hand, the sphere shifts once more, and this time settles into the shape of a magnificent bow, a hunter’s weapon, simple yet elegant. With determination, you hold out a hand and let it come to you. The wood hums with power, and a golden glow glistens from the intricate lines that run down the stave. You draw back the finely woven string, and an arrow of pure light appears down your sight. You loose, and the arrow speaks of a promise as it flies. Your promise. While your brothers and sister create, protect and guide, you will hunt those that threaten this brave new world. You will judge those that are worthy, and those that are not. The others would stand fast in the light, but you would venture beyond it, deep into the abyssal darkness, so that no other would have to. This is your purpose. IX (Custos) With eyes closed, you can truly see. Around you, trees spread their roots, plants open their petals and face the sky, birds take wing, and the creatures of the forest continue building their homes, all oblivious to your passing. The very air hums with life. You witness everything in your mind, in a cascade of light and colour, a world on fire in the most magnificent spectacle possible. You will never grow tired of this. Moving fluidly, your arms guide the many pieces into shape. You glide through the forest, correcting small imperfections, minuscule parts of the whole that are out of place, and the world around you blossoms. Though life is abundant, you have not yet found what you seek. You have been patient, waiting for the time when sentient life would finally take root. Now, at last, your patience is rewarded. You notice a small flicker of energy that is different from the others. It moves. Flits from tree to tree, watching you curiously from a distance. “Do not be afraid little one,” you say to it, as softly as you can, but it does not understand you. Gently, you turn to it and kneel, and now you open your eyes. You can just barely make out its shape, a hint of blue and silver fur, hiding behind the thickest trunk it can find. You hold out your hand, encouraging it to come to you, and finally it approaches, eyes wide and afraid. Hesitantly, it takes your hand, and you see its mind, its memories, its wants and needs. You know it and it knows you, and together, hand in hand, it takes you to its kin, hidden deep in the silver pines. X (Custos) Much has happened over the years you’ve spent roaming this continent. Under your careful guidance, the land has grown green and pure. Forests have gone from dour and empty to blooming with life. The ice has begun to recede back into the mountains, and above all else, you have found life. You know not how long these creatures have slept, but now they live amidst the trees, and it is to you they look for guidance. They are blue-furred, tall and stout, peaceful to a fault. Making their homes in the high branches, they had shown no fear in meeting you, although you had little in common. Instead they expressed curiosity, and you were more than willing to comply with their eagerness. You have grown fond of these creatures, and you watch them now as they dance and frolic around a carving in the shape of you, celebrating your guidance, chanting in their guttural, barely formed language, which you have greatly influenced. In many ways, you are content, but a lingering doubt sits at the base of your chest, a sense of foreboding, that all was not as perfect as it seemed. You have felt a presence that hides always out of sight, always watching, familiar to you, yet unknown. Sometimes, you think it may be speaking to you, but you do not understand it. You have visited your brother in his home far to the east, where he has found a fascination with powerful beasts that thunder on cloven hooves through grassy plains and odd bipedal creatures that live in clusters and bicker with one another like children. He does not share your concern, and has assured you that all is as it should be. This is, after all, your purpose…but the doubt still remains. XI (Namfoodle) You stand silent on a snowy crag at the very peak of a mountain, looking down at the distant land below you. You are tired, weighed down by the burden of your duties. Years of the hunt have exhausted you, but still the clarity of your purpose remains. You have kept this world safe, but the creatures your siblings nurture do not understand this. They fear you, they fear the sound of your arrow come to pass judgement. They tell stories of the silent shadow that comes at night to whisk them away. The nightmare that makes deals with the dead, that guides them to eternal life. Each time it is harder to feel their light flicker, and suddenly be silenced, but you know that those who’s light you extinguish would have upset the balance and brought this delicate world to ruin. Still you wonder, could they have changed, had you given them the chance? Lately you have been plagued by such thoughts, and this worries you. You feel detached. The visions you once saw of silver grass have changed now. You see crumbled ruins in the sky, and cracks in the air that swallow the light. You can sense something watching you, observing your every action. You do not understand how this is possible, but the presence is always there, looking through your eyes with a hungry curiosity. “Who are you, curious one?” you whisper to yourself, “Why do you follow me?” There is no answer. You hear the soft footsteps behind you from the moment they appear out of thin air, but you do not turn until a voice speaks to you. “You are troubled,” it says. “It is my purpose to be troubled, sister,” you answer, “Why have you come?” Without looking, you know she smiles. “I have found something. Something extraordinary.” You can feel her excitement from here, but it hides something deeper, something more primal, a bubbling lust for power. With a sinking feeling in your chest, you ask that which you do not want to know the answer to. “What is it that you have found, sister?” “Life,” she says, and the bubbling surged into a roar, “I have discovered how to create life.” XII (Castiel) Humans. That is what they call themselves. They are a curious race, living in tiny hovels made of mud and thatch, barely content with their meagre lives and willing to fight for more. They argue constantly, over land, women or wealth. Of all the creatures you have seen in this world, they are the most fascinating. They worship you as a god, and you have given them protection, of a sort. You go from village to village, helping those that need it, guarding those that cannot guard themselves. Under your guidance, they have grown strong. Those that stray from the path are taken swiftly away before they can do any harm, and thus society thrives. You are proud of what you have achieved here. This is what you and your siblings set out to do, and at least here, in the far east, you have done your duty to the world you swore to protect. But, a part of you still harbours a feeling of incompleteness. You feel detached from this part of you, as if it were an entirely different being that was merely sharing your mind. You believe it to be more of the same driving force that has taken you this far. Your calling to guide, watch over and defend. You do not doubt that the road you have taken is the correct one. XIII (Namfoodle) The world balances on the edge of a knife. For years, your path has been clear to you, but now you are torn. You no longer roam the earth in the night, hunting those that disturb it. Instead you pace restlessly through forests and mountains alike, thinking of the words your sister had spoken atop the icy peak where you had both stood last. If she spoke true, then your and your siblings’ ultimate purpose may yet be realised, to shape this world in your image, to bring to it life that knew no flaw, no evil. But were you worthy of such a burden? Your sister certainly believes you to be worthy, destined even, but she is driven now by a hunger you fear cannot be sated. As for you…you must confess you are curious. You have always been curious, but now there is an extent to it that was not there before. The presence at your shoulder watches you still. You are bound to it, and its wants are your own, though still you do not understand why, or how. You dream its dreams. You see fire, you see smoke. You see the hunt, but on a scale that brings even you to shudder. The visions you see, though hazy and unclear, speak of a truth you do not understand. The pale tree promised you the whole truth, and it has given you much of it, but not all.Now, it was time to learn the rest. The present. The past. The future. In a single breath, you surrender to the pull that has haunted you since that day at the glacier. The world around you fades, and from evergreen woodlands you walk now through vast boundless plains of undisturbed grass, the colour of silver, lying perfectly still in the absence of any breeze. Still, the watchful presence at your shoulder follows you, but you accept it. All would be revealed. How you will return home, you do not know. But there stands the tree, towering above you, alone in this perpetual ocean. Here, at last, you are at peace. You place your hand on the bark, feel its warmth, and in its embrace, you find meaning. XIV (Castiel) In the beginning, there was light. The light was clean and pure like freshly fallen snow covering the entirety of existence. In the emptiness, the light spread to the edges of reality, and it knew no darkness; but because there was no darkness, there was no life, for one cannot exist without the other. And so came the night, a ripple in the sea of white that grew into a wave that grew into a tide. The darkness and the light clashed against each other, and for endless time they struggled and fought, shattering and reforming the universe with every clash. It was there, at the very cusp of turmoil, that you would first come be. As time passed, the blanket of light, swirling and intertwining energy that powered the workings of all things, danced an eternal battle with the writhing shadows. Over thousands of millennia, the universe slowly started to settle, and the light that was once formless pooled into great balls of flame and radiance, bulwarks against the night, spread out across the boundless canvas of the sky. Though their light seems everlasting, these stars which began their journey so long ago, now travel further and further apart, while the eternal dark waits always at the very edge of their reach. In time their light will flicker and fade and be extinguished, one by one until the end of all things. As they travelled, the stars drew to them newly born worlds seething with fire and molten rock. There are many such worlds, and though it is impossible to know each and every one, the energy of life, however faint, connects them all. It is from this energy that you are born. You came to this world when it was nothing. You and your siblings watched it grow from ashes and flame. You are firstborn, the bringer of life, and under your protection the light on Ygdren has remained pure, but now at last, the shadows begin to trickle in, and the night has come. You can feel it, and your siblings will have need of you. One has passed beyond your sight, one remains hidden deep within the earth, and the other calls for your aid. Their need is your own, for your purpose is to protect all things. You open your eyes and reach for your sword. It was time to return west. XV (Castiel) You watch the storm clouds rolling in with a sinking feeling clutching at your chest. You had believed yourself mistaken, but the signs were too great to ignore now. The broiling grey curtain swirls around the highest peak of the mountain range, and even from this distance, you can see the jagged shards of lightning strike at its peak. Something was dreadfully wrong, and your sister was at the heart of it. She was meant to unravel the secrets of the core, but perhaps some secrets were never meant to be unravelled. With your faithful sword at your side, you blink once more, and the scenery around you shifts from forests to a massive underground hall, carved seemingly out of solid rock. Before you is a scene of devastation and horror. The hall is circular, with pillars of towering stone reaching towards the ceiling, which was lit with starlight despite being this far underground, and scattered across the floor are the distorted bodies of dozens of creatures. Some small, some large, but all twisted unnaturally into mere semblances of their former selves. Some of them are hybrids of others, disjointedly mashed together to create terrible aberrations. They twitch and writhe on the floor, alive and in terrible pain. You feel a mixture of pity and revulsion. This is wrong. This is beyond wrong. At the very centre of the carnage stands a familiar figure. You recognised her once, but now she is changed. She is beautiful still, as beautiful as ever, but now that beauty is terrifying. Her skin delicate and white, burns with an inner fire, charring the very air around it. Her hair, black as charcoal, quivers with the pulsating energy that surrounds her. A darkness lingers like a cloud, and you fear it may be too late. In her right hand, she holds the core of creation, raised in front of her and crackling with power. Hovering feet in the air above her are two dreadful, skeletal forms. They appear to be half-formed, and as you watch they crack and shudder further into shape, becoming vaguely humanoid, vaguely lifelike. Their skin is translucent, and you can see the bones inside bending into their rightful forms, but there is nothing rightful about this, and as you watch the transformation goes wrong, and they fall to the ground to join the rest of the broken corpses. The air in the room whips around you like a storm, small bursts of lightning shattering small parts of the wall in every direction. At your side, your brother appears, returned from his solitude at your beckoning, his hammer ever in his hand pulsing with raw power. He sees you, and in his eyes you can see a despair that is terrible to behold. Strengthening your resolve, you turn to face her. “You have gone too far sister! This is not what we are meant for! Let go of the stone! Return to us! End this madness, and all will be forgiven.” Your voice thunders around the hall, cutting through the noise like a knife through butter. “No, brother, you will not dissuade me now,” she turns to face you, and her eyes have gone dark, her skin pale as snow, now cracked and seeping liquid shadow, her face twisted in a terrifying grin. “This is my purpose,” she whispers, but the whispers are clear inside your mind, lancing through your head and sending you reeling at the pain. Screaming, you collapse to the floor, unimaginable agony wracking your body. You watch your brother try to stand, his hammer fighting desperately to push away the darkness, but to no avail. The shadows, jagged and sharp, press down on him, stabbing into him, over and over, until he is riddled with dark spears. Then, the shadows convulse, and he is torn apart in a brief explosion of light. And all you hear now is the sound of her laughing, laughing cruelly at the misery she has caused. You only want it to be over. The pain in your head crescendos into a high-pitched screech, until finally your mind cracks under the pressure, and the last thing you see is that terrible smile on your sister’s face, before darkness erupts from her outstretched hand and engulfs you. Then, there is nothing. XVI (Namfoodle) Decades pass in the blink of an eye, and you wake from your long slumber encased in silver grass. How long have you slept, you wonder? The dreams fade now, so vivid but a moment ago, but the truth that was once out of reach now forms at the forefront of your mind. You reach down to touch the grass, and realise its warmth has faded. The world has grown dark around you, and the fields that once shone silver and bright, are now dull and lifeless. There, before you, stands the tree, once proud and magnificent, now it too bears the mark of time. It has shown you your path at last. It speaks to you still, but you have listened long enough. In your heart, you feel the pull of home, and you fear what has become of it in your absence. A blink, and you return to it, but it is not as you remember it. Gone is the radiant sunlight, the green grass and the sounds of songbirds in the trees. The ice had returned to claim this world, and with it came the storm. The sky above you heaves in massive spirals of black clouds, and cracks with the dull sounds of thunder pounding against rock. The storm blots out the suns, leaving the world in perpetual twilight. You follow the spiral to its heart, and there you see what you already knew to be true. Memories come rushing back to you. Some are your own, and some are visions you do not recognise. The past and the future, both lead to that one mountain peak, where the lightning drummed against ancient stone. You know what you must do. In your heart, you always knew. Through the decades, the tree had always groomed you to be what was necessary. The final bastion of the light, the last ray of sunlight in a world gone to night. Why did it not release you sooner, you think in despair. Why keep you buried in dreams while the world turned to nightmare? Visions come to you of your brothers, delicate like glass in your mind, shattered by a wave of unquenchable anger. A taste of anguish clenches at your heart. You should have been here, you who knew more than they ever had, the consequences that awaited this world when its light inevitably faded. For the briefest of moments, you wonder what had become of the infantile races you and your siblings had so carefully nurtured. You push those thoughts out of your mind, as the storm pulses once more. You were the only one now. You had let your own thirst for knowledge lure you before, but now you would right the wrongs that had risen while you slept, and fix the balance that had been broken, or die trying. This, is your purpose. XVII (Namfoodle) Cold wraps a shadowy grasp around you as you step into the hall. An encroaching darkness pervades the cavernous chamber, pressing down on you, whispering dark truths and forbidden secrets, but you resist. The tree protects you, like it has always protected you, and the bow that once hunted the darkness, now holds it back, pushing away the tendrils that seek to touch your skin. You draw back the string, loose, and a radiant bolt of light erupts upward, casting a brilliant light across the cavern for the briefest of moments, before it is swallowed by the night. But a moment was enough, for in the very centre of the pristinely flat floor you see her. She is on one knee, back arched and shoulders hunched, raven black hair hanging listlessly past her face, and always the shadows seep lazily out of her skin, falling to the ground to join the dark cloud that fills the chamber. In one hand, she holds a powerful blade, once radiant and sharp, now dull and sullen. In the other, she holds the hammer that once shaped this world, and now lies lifeless and cracked. On her head, she wears a crown of twisted metal and dark stone, embedded into which is the small, pebble-sized core of creation, transparent like glass, with delicate veins of dark crimson ore running across its surface, and a soft gleam of inner light that has all but been extinguished flickering at its centre. Around her lie the broken remains of long dead monstrosities, failed experiments in a crusade doomed from the start, but before her are two jagged forms intertwined with each other, and from here you can see their chests rise almost imperceptibly with faint breaths. Your heart heavy, you step deeper into the hall, and the shadows part way for you, encasing you in a small bubble of light as you approach the centre of the cavern. Close enough to see the sheen of sweat on her skin despite the frigid air, you stop, and gaze at her sadly. “What have you done, sister,” you ask. She shudders, and her eyes rise to meet yours. They are black now, deep and writhing with anger and hate. “Who are you to question me?” she growls, “You who abandoned this world, who abandoned me at my moment of triumph.” The words strike you like a sharp slap, and you wince. “It was wrong of me to leave when I did, I see that now.” “I finished what you started, what the others were too weak to do. Years countless I have toiled, and now you have come to undo my work. To undo me.” “You have done that yourself,” you answer. “I did what I had to,” she snaps, and her voice is rasping and harsh, “This was our dream, MY dream. The core promised me greatness, it promised me life, and it has fulfilled its promises as it foretold.” You shake your head. “I have seen what the core offers, the life it creates, there is no place for it in this world. I have seen the truth; past, present, even glimpses of the future, and we are not a part of that future. We had done our part, brought an end to the winter, lit the spark of life. Was that not enough?” “No,” she snarls, “That life was imperfect, flawed by its very nature. But my children…every day I draw closer to perfection. I just need…more…time…” “Time has run out,” you answer, “Let this world be rid of us, let it find its own way, free of the storms we have created.” “I cannot do that. I’m so close…so close. My children will rule this world, from shore to shore. Immortal, splendid, perfect. Their cities will glimmer like silver, their lands rich with plenty. This is my purpose…the core has shown me…it does not lie. I will be their queen! The queen of life itself!” “Look around you, sister, all I see is death, and those consumed by it!” She stands slowly, her movements juddering like a puppet whose strings have been cut. “Then you are blind, like our brothers were blind,” she growls, “and just like them, your light will be extinguished to fuel the fires of progress.” The shadows around her begin to writhe faster and faster, and the sword and hammer she had been holding fall to the ground with a crash. In her palm, a simple wooden quill forms, tipped with glowing silver, with veins of pulsating gold coursing through it like blood. It’s tip begins to glow with power. “So be it,” you whisper, and in one smooth motion you draw your bow and loose, and the cavern erupts into a terrible storm of cascading light and fire. XVIII (Namfoodle) The sky burns. Mad vortices of energy crash from horizon to horizon. Curtains of flame dance above, and at the very centre of it all, you stand, on the mountain peak where this all began. At your feet, she lies, broken, hate still seething behind her eyes. She holds the core to her chest, but the shadows are faint now, and you step towards her. “With you by my side,” she rasps, “we could have ruled this world! Together.” “We were never meant to rule, sister. This is what you fail to understand.” “Why?” she asks you, “We were so close to greatness.” You raise your brother’s sword heavenward, where the fire still rages. “This obscenity should never have been allowed. You bring an end to all we knew.” “No,” she growls, “only a beginning.” Without warning, the core pulses, and a shard of light erupts in the air next to you, tearing through reality to reveal nothing but an endless void. Before you can stop her, she falls through the rift, and then, there is silence. The sword falls from your grasp, melting into the stone at your feet. You leave it. Around you, rain begins to fall. You crumble to your knees, weariness overcoming you at last. Alone, you watch the madness above, and the presence behind your shoulder watches you. “How did it come to this?” you ask it. It looks to the sky, and does not answer. Inside, a strangeness, a hollow feeling without name, claws at your heart. It is called despair, a voice says, and at first you do not realise it was the presence that had spoken. “Who are you?” you ask it once again. I am you, and you are me. “Why are you here?” You sent me. “I do not understand.” As it was, so shall it be again. You pause, absorbing the answer. “I do not know my purpose,” you say. Silence. The rain continues to pour around you. It has never bothered you before, but now you feel cold. You look down in weariness, and in the water pooling at your feet, you see your face flicker against the light of the fires above. Hair black as night, skin pale as snow. Beautiful like your sister once was. A sense of recognition dawns on you, but it is not your own. The voice at your shoulder steps forward and reaches for the reflection, and a name comes unbidden to your mind. Mitrhawen, The White Lady, Last of the Precursors. XIX (All) The hall seemed eerily silent now, after the raging skies of the mountain top. Everything lies still in your sister’s absence. You walk listlessly through the dimly lit cavern, fingers tracing the layer of ash that covers the walls. All was quiet, and that was good. Time would reclaim this place, heal the scars your sister had created, and the world would find peace. It pained you only that you could not stay to witness it. A whimper breaks the stillness behind you. You whip around to face it, bow immediately raised and an arrow of light drawn, aimed at the shadowy corner from where the sound had come. A moment or two pass, and now you can see stirs of movement in the dark. One at first, then two more, then a dozen, until twenty figures stood before you. They all step out of their hiding place and you lower your bow in shock. They were children, nothing more. Small, diminutive, with long pointed ears and faces that uncannily resembled your sister’s. You understand now what she had meant. Even from here, you can tell the power that was stored within their very matter, the energy that had been spent in their making. They were almost perfect, a mere few steps away from being as powerful as you and your siblings. She was close to having fulfilled her purpose, you realise, but at what cost? Your hand tightens around your bow, and the bow flares in response. The children gasp and cower away from you, trembling, cold and afraid A clench of trepidation grasps your chest. You know that a decision had to be made. How much of herself had your sister poured into her creations? What damage could they wreak, beings as purely unnatural as these? Your sister had been only one, and yet she had almost brought this world to ruin. They may not possess her power, but did they possess her will? Her conviction? Her cause? Better to destroy them now, before they realised the extent of their being. And yet…a doubt lingers, giving you pause. These children had not asked to be made. They had come from the orb of creation, and you understand that by its nature, the primordial power held within the stone was neither good nor evil. What cause had you to decide their fate? Hadn’t your absence caused enough damage already? Would your action now worsen the situation, or would it serve to balance your inaction? Before your thoughts have finished reeling, one of them steps forward, standing tall. A boy. Hair black as night, like hers had been. Like yours still was. “Where is mother?”, he asks. You hesitate. “She is gone,” you answer simply. “Gone where?” You ignore the question, looking into his eyes. You see fear and you see anger, but you also see bravery, stubbornness, strength, and above all, a fierce burning love for his lost mother. He shudders and looks away, unable to withstand the intensity of your gaze, but you have seen what you needed to see. What unnatural creature could feel such emotion, you ask yourself? You had killed many in your long years, and the unrelenting burden had worn you thin, tinged always by the doubt that came with every hunt. It was time, you decided, to show mercy. To have faith. To let nature run its own course, without your interference. The decision made, you hold out a hand, slowly and gently. He hesitates too, but after a long, interminable moment he steps forward to take it. His skin is frigid against your own. “What is your name, child?” you ask him. His eyes meet yours again, and you are struck by the magnificent colour, reflected and shimmering in the light of your bow. The colour of fire and molten rock. “Salakai” he answers, “My name is Salakai.” Category:History __FORCETOC__